Lessons
by Simplybofa
Summary: Puck gives Finn an impromptu dance lesson. F/P Oneshot


**Don't we all love spontaneous dance lessons? **

_One, and two… step to left… three and… kick? _

"Damn it!" Finn kicked the wastepaper basket by his bedroom door, which was firmly locked and barricaded. What he was doing could not leave his room.

_Five, six, seven, eight… Arms in the air and something about his knees bending? _

He exclaimed as he let himself fall onto his bed in frustration. The Target brand comforter slid from under him uncomfortably and his shirt stuck to his rib cage with sweat. Finn's heart jumped as he heard his mom's footsteps thumping down the hall outside his door. He knew she wouldn't come in, but he couldn't help his nerves. The bed was suddenly to puffy. He sat up, rigid with frustration.

Finn could feel the self loathing seeping through his body. He was the worst dancer in Glee club- and that was counting Artie. He knew he had to get better- not just to get ahead or to feel better about himself. He had certain people- well, a certain person- he wanted to impress. That is, if he could ever get the chance.

His heart picked up speed again- for a different reason this time.

_On that note, I should probably try again. _

Finn shoved the fluttering in his chest down enough to concentrate, reached over and tapped the play button on his Ipod. Lady Gaga's Monster began bellowing through the speakers loud enough to flatten an iceberg. Finn scrambled to kill the volume. As if he needed more sounds shaking him up. He inwardly groaned.

"Finn?" He heard a light tap, tap, tap on his door. In his mind, opening the door- or even just responding to that inquiry- would be the equivalent of getting his ass blown up on Modern Warfare II. Blood and guts everywhere.

"Finn?" Again with that persistent tapping… Finn cleared his throat.

"Yeah?"

"Puck's here." His mom didn't waste a beat replying, fully unaware that her son was suffering from a mental breakdown on the other side of the door she was currently leaning against. It wasn't her fault, though.

Finn's stomach was doing those flips again. Just like it did in class this morning. Just like it had done a few seconds ago. Too bad he couldn't figure out how to sell a feeling like this… He conjectured that if, under better and less horrifying circumstances, someone could achieve this feeling it would be extremely enjoyable. Kids would pay a whole lot to feel the giddiness he was currently suffering from.

And right now, it was killing him.

"Sweetie?"

"Mom, just a minute!" His nerves were coiled, ready to snap. He peeled the drenched shirt off of his back and threw on a frayed sweatshirt that had been slumped over the dirty clothes hamper.

"Could I just get your dirties? I need darks for this load." His mom answered his unspoken thoughts about dirty clothes with freakish accuracy. He didn't have the voice to answer her, though, and instead slid again onto his bed. He laid a hand on his heart, which was erratically throbbing in his chest. He searched his mind for a good way to handle this.

"Finn?" His mom badgered. "I guess I'll just send him up…"

Finn's eyes widened and he felt a jagged 'no!' scratch the surface of this throat, but it was too late. The 'no' didn't surface, instead deflating down into the pit of his stomach where it nestled and festered. He stood, now, paralyzed by the foot of his bed as he listened with every fiber of his being for the distinct sound of their old front door squeaking open. Next came the polite chit-chat, followed by a short and brusque round of stomping as combat boots thumped up the stairs.

Finn's eye twitched.

No knock came from Puck. Just a jiggling door knob. It clinked and rattled under the might of Puck's grip. Finally, without Finn's unlocking the door, it swung open and Puck pitched forward. Finn watched in horror as Noah struggled to right himself, which he did fairly quickly- more than Finn could say for himself.

"What's with the battlement?" Puck crossed his arms and sauntered into the room, stopping to lean against Finn's dresser.

"H-huh?" Finn struggled to catch a floating syllable or two. His goal was only to form audible sounds. Grumbling was acceptable. He'd take what he could get.

"Door locked and bolted, man I think you even had a chair hitched under the knob at some point?" Puck smirked, his jaw clenching and his lips pursing in that undeniably sexy way only he can achieve. Finn nodded.

"So… what's the what for?"

Finn's mind tripped as it stumbled around in a singular circle, singing one word over and over.

Puck, Puck, Puck, Puck.

Well, if Finn was being honest with himself, two words were running around up there. And they rhymed. Wait, did he just say something about a chair? There had been a chair- the rickety old one that used to sit in the corner of his bedroom was currently heaped in a pile of rubble after an unfortunate fall of Finn's had taken its life thirty minutes into his horrid self-dance lesson. But that had to have been about an hour ago…

Finn's mind was whirling around in circles.

"Chair?" He managed to eek out. He watched in horror as the smile on his best friends face slid into a more sinister grin. It made him look like a fox, all those teeth bared like he was about to leap in and kill the rabbit he'd been stalking.

"Yeah, that didn't look like it felt too good. Usually when you fall that hard you're down for a while." Puck rubbed his palms together brusquely before reaching to lift Finn up from his seat on the bed.

"Mmf," Finn grumbled. He had fallen pretty hard. Puck lifted the arm attached to the hand he was holding, like he was looking for cuts or bruises.

"You seem pretty in tact, though." Puck's slight at Finn's masculinity struck a chord and semi-snapped him out of his stupor.

"I am quarterback." Finn managed to growl the sentence with enough frost to get the message across. Puck dropped Finn's hand and crossed his arms.

"I know what you are." Puck bit back, waiting a minute before pulling that evil smile back onto his face. "And speaking of what you are, since when is dancing like a girl part of the quarterback's warm up routine?"

Finn froze, his face immediately coloring and turning hot. His eyes locked on the floor, on his shoes which were sort of beat up and old. He just wanted Puck to leave now. Forget the tickle he was feeling in his stomach at his presence, it wasn't worth the embarrassment. It wasn't worth the hurt that was now flooding through him like a sick, black tidal wave.

Puck was making fun of him.

"Did you want anything or what?" Finn finally managed to demand, still not feeling enough courage to face his source of embarrassment and failure. He heard Puck's footsteps, saw his shoes make their way over to his side. He felt Puck's presence more than he saw it. The heat radiated between them, sending sparks jolting like lightening from shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

"I want to help you."

Finn's heart was not cooperating with him today. This was made very clear when it seemed to stop altogether at this boy's words. It took Finn a second before he was able to breathe and force his head up to look at Puck.

"Help me…" Finn's eyes narrowed, weighing the option that this was another jab at his skills, another taunt. He didn't think he would handle the next one so gracefully as he had the first.

"Help you." Puck reached the short distance between them and grabbed Finn's hand, holding it strong and warm in his. "Help you dance." Finn stared at his friend, trying to comprehend this unheard of answer to his prayers. Trying to sort out the instance where Puck's mind might have slipped into this point. Finn's mind was off and running again, stumbling over all the possibilities that this was something other than what he had always hoped for. His eyes trained on Puck's face, trying to find an answer in his tanned skin, the dip of his nose, the creases of his lips.

Puck answered the questions on Finn's face by pulling the boy against him. Finn's breath hitched and he found his cheek laying to rest on the side of Puck's head. The fire that kindled on the contact burned the skin that touched there. Puck wrapped his arms around Finn's back, pulling their bodies as close as possible. Finn couldn't help the little groan that escaped his mouth.

"You have to feel it." Puck murmured into Finn's ear. "Here." As he says this he tightens his grip on Finn's waist, putting all of his weight into their hips.

_This has to be a dream. _Finn stared at Puck, incredulously taking in their bodies, pressed against each other with a force only two football players could garner. Finn felt every bone in his body weigh him down and he realized he wanted to fall against this guy holding him.

"I do." Finn focused every emotion, every meaning possible, into those two words. Because he did feel it. There.

Puck's eyes smoldered and Finn found himself wondering how he did it. How was it possible for this guy to make your insides feel like burned marshmallow with the tilt of his head or the squint of his eye? How could one person hold so much power over the other?

Puck reached over, plucking Finn's Ipod from its position on the dock and momentarily disturbing the spell that had fallen over them. Finn found himself grateful for the reprieve from the delicious torment of Puck's full attention. He took the few sacred seconds to re-teach himself how to breathe. And then, as soon as Puck had taken it, he was replacing the Ipod in its position on the dock. Deep, mellow rock oozed from the speakers, dark and sexy.

Finn grabbed Puck's shoulders in shock as Puck began to drag his hips from side to side. They were actually dancing. Puck seemed to notice Finn's surprise after a second and leaned down again to whisper in Finn's ear.

"It's alright. We're just swaying." Puck's breath was hot and sugary sweet against the side of Finn's face. Finn realized that to Puck, this really might be all they're doing- swaying. He could really just be trying to teach Finn how to dance. The idea made Finn pull slightly away from the boy, who skidded to a halt. Both just stared at each other.

"What?" Puck finally asked him, his eyebrows slightly raised in what Finn hoped was embarrassment. It would be nice to not be the only one who dealt with that. Finn felt the blood drain from his face and his hands felt like little needles were pricking them. He shifted from foot to foot, not really knowing what to say. Finally, because he didn't know what the right thing to say would be, he let his heart take over his vocal chords- giving his brain a rest.

"I can't just dance with you." Finn started. Puck looked like he was about to interject with some mannish defense of his mannishness because his chest puffed out and his lips were poised to begin moving. So Finn kept right on. "I cant _just_ dance with you." This time Finn placed extra emphasis on his 'just'. Puck stood without saying anything for a minute, waiting for Finn to explain. When it was clear Puck had no comment to add to that, Finn guessed he should continue.

"First off, I don't know how you knew I'd been up here dancing…" Finn rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, removing the moisture that had beaded there. "And secondly," Finn paused, wondering weather or not to say what was really on his heart. Finally deciding that now was probably better than later, in the safety of his room, Finn finished his sentence. "You are killing me."

Puck drew in a breath and let one eyebrow quirk up this time. The confusion was gone from his face and in its place was the feral, hungry hunters look Finn had noted several times throughout the course of this morning. Finn watched in silence as Puck again closed the distance between them, wrapping a muscular arm around Finn's waist and drawing Finn's leg up against his own thigh. The color on Finn's cheeks was unmistakable to Puck, who threw away all reserve and slid his hands up the back of Finn's sweatshirt.

"Puck," Finn bit, trying to control himself as the boy's hands roved over the muscles tensed and taut under the old sweatshirt. Pucks fingers roved the contours of his shoulder blades, his hands slowly finding their way to Finn's chest. Finn fought to control the thunder booming in his body as Puck's hands slowly, sweetly trailed down first his chest, then his stomach, and finally coming to a stop at the waist of Finn's jeans, where one of his thumbs hooked the button that held them up.

"I saw you dancing." Puck's voice was raspy as he gave a slight tug on Finn's pants. Finn abandoned any reserve he may have had and let his own hands find their way to Puck's flimsy white tee, which he slowly drew off of Puck's body. Finn let it fall to the floor in a heap.

"Doing it for you…" Finn muttered under his breath. Somehow, this changed Puck's attitude. Finn's words gave him a softer air, drew away some of the ferocity.

But not the hunger.

At Finn's deceleration, Puck finally lowered his face to Finn's, feeling his lips tremble underneath his. Puck let go of what ever inhibitions he may have had and deepened his kiss, causing Finn's arms to snake around his bare chest. Finn's hands were hot on his skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Puck reveled in the discomfort and felt Finn's tongue on his bottom lip. Puck took over from there, instilling all of his voracity into what the two had connected.

Finn's heart could have burst open. This boy who encompassed his every thought, every action, was really here with him. Kissing him. Touching him…

And he was. Finn felt Puck's hands beginning to slide down the insides of his jeans. Somehow Puck had gotten them unbuttoned without Finn noticing. Now, Puck's fingers, icy against Finn's hot skin, were snaking past the elastic of his boxer's waistline and spreading to grip Finn's hips, his thighs.

Finn felt the side of his bed against his calves and lowered on his back, thankful for the reprieve from standing. Puck laid on top of him, leaning down to kiss the hollow of Finn's neck as his fingers traced Finn from inside of his jeans.

Finn let his fingers dig into the skin on Puck's back, keeping him grounded when he felt like he could lift off to space. But he stayed in the moment, and as Puck trailed his lips up Finn's neck and past his chin, he left one deep kiss in his wake.

Before Finn knew what had happened, Puck's hands had drawn away and Puck's lips had drawn away, too. All that was still close was Puck's body against his.

"I think… maybe I should teach you how to dance, now." Puck let his voice, hoarse and husky, grate into Finn's ear.

**Well, this is a oneshot, like most of my others… Puck and Finn are relatively new to me. I have another, slightly deeper Puck/Finn oneshot that should be popping up on here soon. This one is for X, who totally shipps this couple and who is completely awesome. Thanks for reading, guys. I'd love to know what you think.**


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